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As many of you know, Dave in Northridge was on his way up to the Bay Area last Thursday to stay with me and Brian for a long weekend. I had planned to pick him up at our closest BART station at noon. Thinking myself conscientious, I arrived 10 minutes early. Noon came and went. By 12:30, I was getting antsy. I was getting downright worried by 1:30, and by 1:45, I was panicking, all the while kicking myself because I didn't have his cell phone number with me. My bursting bladder forced the issue and I gave up. I have never driven that fast on Route 80 in my life. My relief at being able to pee was the only relief I would have for the next 3 hours. After checking my empty phone messages and looking for e-mail or Kos mail, I ransacked the house looking for his cell phone number. I couldn't find it.
At the risk of forever being known as the Kossack who lost Dave in Northridge, I did the only thing left I could think to do. I turned to Daily Kos with a plea for help. I sent private Kos mail to folks I thought might have his cell phone. Then I went full-on drama queen and posted a public diary, which I've since deleted, asking if anyone in Kos-land might have a cell phone number. This community never disappoints. No one came up with a cell phone number, but I had plenty of suggestions pouring in on what I might do to try to find our dear Dave.
With great concern, people suggested I get the San Francisco Airport police to have Dave paged. Next I contacted his local police to request they conduct a welfare check at his home address. I had a host of Kossacks sitting in my diary worrying with me and keeping me from freaking out until I finally got that call from Dave that he had arrived at BART shortly after I gave up and went home.
Now here is the part that I failed to realize. Dave does not own a cell phone, something he has promised he will quickly rectify. He had also forgotten my contact information at home. I would tsk-tsk him, but it sounds exactly like something I would do rushing out the door in the wee hours of the morning to catch a flight.
Not knowing what to do at that point, Dave turned around and headed into San Francisco and checked into a hotel. He contacted me at his first opportunity, and I confess to breaking down in tears with relief. I immediately posted an update in the diary and called the police to tell them he had been found. After I calmed down, I called him back and we had a good chuckle and a story to tell. We reformed our plans to meet at the Ferry Building in San Francisco the next morning to hook up with our friend he had never met, slksfca. We planned to meet him at the De Young Art Museum to see the Dutch Masters exhibit. What could go wrong?
Well, I'll tell you.
When last Dave and I spoke, he understood I would be on the 10:00 a.m. ferry out of Vallejo. When I got to the ferry terminal, the parking lot was full. By the time I found a parking space and sprinted to get to the ferry, it was just pulling out. It was at that point that I realized it was now my turn to add to the crap sandwich of bad timing and things going awry. I sprinted back to my truck with a stitch in my side. Figuring that I could drive to BART and get to San Francisco in time to come up out of the station across from the ferry terminal, I could race over and meet up with Dave just about the time the ferry was docking.
It was at that point I looked down and saw the gas meter hovering around empty. I stopped off at a gas station, pumped ten bucks in the tank and took off for the train station as fast as I could. When I arrived, naturally, there was not one parking space to be found. I drove through all five stories of the parking garage, wasting another 15 minutes. There was nothing to do but get back on the freeway and endure the traffic getting over the Bay Bridge. Of course there was a San Francisco Giants game happening, so traffic did not disappoint.
I was sitting in bumper to bumper madness on the Western span of the Bay Bridge, looking down at the ferry I was supposed to be on docked at the San Francisco Ferry Building, imagining the look on Dave's face at that very moment as he realized I had missed the boat. My heart sank. The fates had destroyed another fine plan. I took my exit off the freeway and got on the Embarcadero knowing that the chances of hooking up with Dave were slim to none.
This is where this long-winded tale of woe comes to an end. When you take into account the events of the day before and every single minute of the race against the clock I had experienced up until the moment I arrived at the SF Ferry Building, your faith in Karma may be restored. As I pulled up in front of the building, there stood a very frustrated looking Dave getting ready to cross the street to catch public transportation to the museum. He wasn't ten feet away from me among a throng of people. A couple of quick blasts on my horn and he caught my eye. If I had been 1 minute earlier or 1 minute later, we would have missed each other once again. Our luck had changed on a dime.
We got to the museum just 5 minutes ahead of slksfca and the rest of the weekend was one of the most enjoyable Kossack hook-ups I've yet to have. Dave and I both just loved finally meeting slksfca, a beautiful soul, and seeing the Dutch Masters exhibit at the De Young. The highlight was finally getting to see with our own eyes Girl with a Pearl Earring painted by Johannes Vermeer.
Last night, Dave in Northridge was the guest of honor at a dinner organized by the Queen of all Organizers, navajo. Please check out the wonderful pictures from her NEW DAY diary. I would include mine here, but almost down to the last one, they turned out badly. Maybe Karma wasn't through with me quite yet.
So concludes Dave and Steven's great adventure. I hope your weekend went without a glitch.
Now on to Tops!
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April 6, 2013
Enjoy jotter's wonderful PictureQuilt™ below. Just click on the picture and it will magically take you to the comment that features that photo. Have fun, Kossacks!
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